Coron, Palawan
11th of October
The metallic hiss of my breathing was coming in gasps. The corals were gone now, and I was slowly being swallowed by the murky darkness around the ominous sunken gunboat.
I couldn’t speak- or scream for that matter to get anyone’s attention. There were only three of us diving, and both men were ahead of me. My bounding pulse sounded like drumbeats signaling impending doom as I struggled to catch up. I saw the bright yellow fins of the Divemaster a few meters ahead of me, and looking up I saw but slivers of light coming from the surface- but growing faint as we went deeper.
The muscles of my legs were beginning to ache. I tried wildly to signal to my Divemaster that I was having trouble, but he was almost beyond my reach and I couldn’t just inflate my vest to float to the surface suddenly- my ears had to adjust constantly to the pressure underwater and if I surface very quickly it might be harmful for me.
“Fuck! I’m going to die here…”
5 Feet
“Boss, I-try nyo mag scuba diving.” The man from the resort said.
“He doesn’t swim,” I told the guy of my beau. “I can, but I’ve never dived before, and doesn’t one need certain hours of training in a pool before they allow you in the open sea?”
“Ang Discover Diving, sa mababaw muna mag-start tapos dun kayo tuturuan ng basics. I-try nyo po, Php3,200 lang para sa dalawang dives. May kasama ng lunch yun.”
And that’s how it started. Early the next day, we found ourselves in a small outrigger boat speeding into the sea for an hour to reach the dive site: a Japanese Gunboat which sunk more than 60 years ago during the Japanese-American war.
The boat anchored near the shore. The Divemaster fitted the equipment and threw them overboard. I watched the tanks strapped to the backpacks floating despite its heaviness. “Take pictures of me.” I said to my beau as I got into the water. I was wearing a wet suit and I thought I was so cool.
The Divemaster taught us the basics in the shallow water: how to breathe using the regulator, retrieving your regulator, what to do when your mask gets foggy, and the most important thing: hand signals. You certainly can’t speak underwater, so you rely on hand signals to tell the Dive Master certain things- if your oxygen is low, if you’re okay, or if you’re in trouble.
We were ready.
15 Feet below Sea Level
We descended slowly. The British guy was ahead, followed by the Divemaster, and I lagged behind. The corals were stunning- an explosion of colors and exotic creatures (which you never really appreciate that much when you just snorkel).
The Divemaster turned to me questioningly, and I gave him the signal for “Okay”.
We went deeper.
A couple of Lionfish swam past, towards the corals. I floated about cautiously, admiring their splendid spikes that made them look unearthly. The muscles of my legs started to cramp a little bit- but if I stopped doing flutter kicks I’d sink to the depths.
I felt the pressure on my ears- I equalized just as the Divemaster had taught me. Three people in a giant soup- that was what we must have looked like. Suddenly, the seafloor disappeared from view- what appeared to me was just darkness below. I felt a slight flip of my stomach.
30 Feet below Sea Level
My mouth and throat felt dry from the oxygen, but I dared not to swallow and let some saliva moisten it- I could accidentally let go of the oxygen regulator- and at 30 feet underwater- that can’t be a good thing.
I followed the gaze of the Divemaster and the British guy- just ahead, illuminated in a ghostly glow was an enormous gunboat. It looked as dead as it was dreary, seemingly foreboding as it threatened to swallow us.
There were less corals now, and only but a few fish swimming past. It was as if living things avoided the desolate spot.
The Divemaster turned to us and signaled “follow me”.
The was no sound except for the constant hiss of my regulator and the gurgling sound of bubbles as they rose to the surface. We swam deeper towards the boat.
50 Feet below Sea Level
It began as a whisper of fear. A slight knotting of my stomach, which suddenly spread to the rest of my body. To my horror, I recognized it as a sign of a panic attack.
I began reciting prayers in my head to try and calm myself down, while trying desperately to swim towards the Divemaster so I can signal that I needed to surface.
“Oh God, oh God.”
My legs felt like lead, and one of my fins were loose. I finally was able to grasp the Divemaster’s ankle. In the dim light, he turns to me questioningly.
Shit! I racked my brains- what was the signal for distress? I couldn’t think anymore, all I wanted to do was get out of that place. I was hyperventilating now, and I could see the oxygen bubbles swirling about.
He signaled CALM DOWN.
I continued to struggle through his grasp, wildly signaling and pointing up. Take me to the surface!
“Oh God, he doesn’t understand. Take me up!” I screamed in my mind.
I remembered what he said during the lesson: do not inflate your vest so as not to rise to the surface rapidly. Fuck it.
I began to kick. Kick and swim towards the surface. Finally, he understood. He signaled to the British diver, grabbed my vest, and slowly pulled me upwards.
At the Surface
I had never been so happy to see the sun, and the wind whipping my face. I let the warmth flood through my body. I bobbed up and down on the surface of the water, and the Divemaster and the British diver went back underwater.
I swam to where our boat was.
At lunch time, while we had our portions of food, the British guy’s wife told me, “You know, one of the best ways to overcome your fears is to get right back on.”
“Oo, nga Sir. Meron pa kayong isang dive. Turned out I only consumed barely half of my previous oxygen tank, and had another for the second dive, which was already paid for.
They all turned to look at me for my reply. It was, by far, one of the craziest things I’d ever done- I smiled and said, “Sure, where’s the next wreck site?”
11th of October
The metallic hiss of my breathing was coming in gasps. The corals were gone now, and I was slowly being swallowed by the murky darkness around the ominous sunken gunboat.
I couldn’t speak- or scream for that matter to get anyone’s attention. There were only three of us diving, and both men were ahead of me. My bounding pulse sounded like drumbeats signaling impending doom as I struggled to catch up. I saw the bright yellow fins of the Divemaster a few meters ahead of me, and looking up I saw but slivers of light coming from the surface- but growing faint as we went deeper.
The muscles of my legs were beginning to ache. I tried wildly to signal to my Divemaster that I was having trouble, but he was almost beyond my reach and I couldn’t just inflate my vest to float to the surface suddenly- my ears had to adjust constantly to the pressure underwater and if I surface very quickly it might be harmful for me.
“Fuck! I’m going to die here…”
5 Feet
“Boss, I-try nyo mag scuba diving.” The man from the resort said.
“He doesn’t swim,” I told the guy of my beau. “I can, but I’ve never dived before, and doesn’t one need certain hours of training in a pool before they allow you in the open sea?”
“Ang Discover Diving, sa mababaw muna mag-start tapos dun kayo tuturuan ng basics. I-try nyo po, Php3,200 lang para sa dalawang dives. May kasama ng lunch yun.”
And that’s how it started. Early the next day, we found ourselves in a small outrigger boat speeding into the sea for an hour to reach the dive site: a Japanese Gunboat which sunk more than 60 years ago during the Japanese-American war.
The boat anchored near the shore. The Divemaster fitted the equipment and threw them overboard. I watched the tanks strapped to the backpacks floating despite its heaviness. “Take pictures of me.” I said to my beau as I got into the water. I was wearing a wet suit and I thought I was so cool.
The Divemaster taught us the basics in the shallow water: how to breathe using the regulator, retrieving your regulator, what to do when your mask gets foggy, and the most important thing: hand signals. You certainly can’t speak underwater, so you rely on hand signals to tell the Dive Master certain things- if your oxygen is low, if you’re okay, or if you’re in trouble.
We were ready.
15 Feet below Sea Level
We descended slowly. The British guy was ahead, followed by the Divemaster, and I lagged behind. The corals were stunning- an explosion of colors and exotic creatures (which you never really appreciate that much when you just snorkel).
The Divemaster turned to me questioningly, and I gave him the signal for “Okay”.
We went deeper.
A couple of Lionfish swam past, towards the corals. I floated about cautiously, admiring their splendid spikes that made them look unearthly. The muscles of my legs started to cramp a little bit- but if I stopped doing flutter kicks I’d sink to the depths.
I felt the pressure on my ears- I equalized just as the Divemaster had taught me. Three people in a giant soup- that was what we must have looked like. Suddenly, the seafloor disappeared from view- what appeared to me was just darkness below. I felt a slight flip of my stomach.
30 Feet below Sea Level
My mouth and throat felt dry from the oxygen, but I dared not to swallow and let some saliva moisten it- I could accidentally let go of the oxygen regulator- and at 30 feet underwater- that can’t be a good thing.
I followed the gaze of the Divemaster and the British guy- just ahead, illuminated in a ghostly glow was an enormous gunboat. It looked as dead as it was dreary, seemingly foreboding as it threatened to swallow us.
There were less corals now, and only but a few fish swimming past. It was as if living things avoided the desolate spot.
The Divemaster turned to us and signaled “follow me”.
The was no sound except for the constant hiss of my regulator and the gurgling sound of bubbles as they rose to the surface. We swam deeper towards the boat.
50 Feet below Sea Level
It began as a whisper of fear. A slight knotting of my stomach, which suddenly spread to the rest of my body. To my horror, I recognized it as a sign of a panic attack.
I began reciting prayers in my head to try and calm myself down, while trying desperately to swim towards the Divemaster so I can signal that I needed to surface.
“Oh God, oh God.”
My legs felt like lead, and one of my fins were loose. I finally was able to grasp the Divemaster’s ankle. In the dim light, he turns to me questioningly.
Shit! I racked my brains- what was the signal for distress? I couldn’t think anymore, all I wanted to do was get out of that place. I was hyperventilating now, and I could see the oxygen bubbles swirling about.
He signaled CALM DOWN.
I continued to struggle through his grasp, wildly signaling and pointing up. Take me to the surface!
“Oh God, he doesn’t understand. Take me up!” I screamed in my mind.
I remembered what he said during the lesson: do not inflate your vest so as not to rise to the surface rapidly. Fuck it.
I began to kick. Kick and swim towards the surface. Finally, he understood. He signaled to the British diver, grabbed my vest, and slowly pulled me upwards.
At the Surface
I had never been so happy to see the sun, and the wind whipping my face. I let the warmth flood through my body. I bobbed up and down on the surface of the water, and the Divemaster and the British diver went back underwater.
I swam to where our boat was.
At lunch time, while we had our portions of food, the British guy’s wife told me, “You know, one of the best ways to overcome your fears is to get right back on.”
“Oo, nga Sir. Meron pa kayong isang dive. Turned out I only consumed barely half of my previous oxygen tank, and had another for the second dive, which was already paid for.
They all turned to look at me for my reply. It was, by far, one of the craziest things I’d ever done- I smiled and said, “Sure, where’s the next wreck site?”
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